Throwing punches at the God of Thunder
by dammit-castiell
Summary: When a mission goes wrong and upsets his friend, Thor does what he can to help the newest Avenger to move on.
1. Chapter 1

I swung my fists, ignoring the spikes of pain as each new punch collided with the material of my third punching bag. My knuckles had split and bled long ago, my own fault for forgetting the protective gloves and tape in my emotional state. I continued in a flurry of sloppy but forceful jabs at the bag, feeling the tears streaming down my face and only getting more upset for letting myself cry. The usually grey punching bag was smeared with red from my hands, and my body begged for sleep, but I denied myself the relief. I stood in the centre of Stark's gym, with no lights on, only the faint, dim glow of moonlight through the skylights.

This was my fault. My fault. The phrase repeated itself in my head with every thud of my wounded fists. _My_. Thud. _Fault._ Thud. _My_. Thud. _Fault._ Thud. _My._ Thud. _Fault!_ BANG. Breathless, with tears flooding my face, I lost my angry rhythm and just hammered my bleeding fists against the bag until I couldn't breathe for crying. The bag fell from the thin rope I had tied it up with, and fell to the ground. I stood in silence for a moment, and then dragged it a few feet to my right, where another rope hung ready. I tied it up and resumed my attack, tears falling silently again.

I had been relentlessly attacking the bag for nearly four hours, when the door to the gym opened, and a familiar face entered the darkened gym. Growling, I ignored the intruder and doubled my efforts, pounding unceasingly on the bloodied leather. I moved around the bag to put my back to the blonde that had found me, and grit my teeth as I continued to throw punch after punch.

Hearing footfalls behind me, I circled the bag again to put a little more distance between myself and my fellow Avenger.

"Kite." My friend spoke with a calm voice, but the concern I detected in his tone only upset me more. I didn't respond. Thor said my name a second time, but when no reply came, he darted quickly around the punching bag and grabbed my wrist. Immediately, my free fist directed its next hit at his chest, but he caught that arm too, and clamped my wrists together in one huge hand. I struggled and swore, but he held me steady. I wrenched my arms backward, and he let go, afraid I would hurt myself if I pulled away too hard. I peppered his chest and stomach with blows, but he barely swayed on his feet, and simply allowed me to punch him until I calmed myself down.

Eventually, though the streaming tears kept up a heavy flow, my outburst of violence toward my friend slowed and became weak, as the sobbing took over. As my arms dropped to my side, he wordlessly wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and pulled me into his warm chest, laying his cheek atop my head. I began to register the sting and burn of my abused knuckles, and cradled my hands against my stomach as I cried into his shoulder.

"My fault." I mumbled into his chest. He gripped me tighter.

"No, Kite. None of what happened yesterday was your fault." He murmured, running a soothing hand up and down my spine. A sob pushed past my lips, muffling itself in the fabric of his shirt.

"They're dead. Because of me." I whispered, hating to hear the words out loud. He pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, and gripped me by my upper arms.

"Kite, you did everything possible to save them. Its not your fault that the building collapsed before you could get to them. We barely got you out alive, it's a miracle you were only injured." He said gently, gesturing to the bandage that encircled my midriff, just visible beneath my vest and above my shorts. Looking to where my bandage was covered by clothes, Thor saw spots of blood seeping into the material. Frowning, he lifted my vest a little.

"Your stitches are damaged, we should find Bruce…" He began, but I cut him off by yanking my shirt back down. Unfortunately, that only served to show the demigod my shredded knuckles, and he carefully took my right hand in his, turning it to see the damage.

"These will need seeing to as well." He mused. I pulled my hand from his loose grip, muttering that I was fine, that I just needed to sleep. I turned to walk to the door, but he caught my wrist.

"Kite, let me help. You're hurt." He said in a deep voice that was calming to me. I stared at his clear blue eyes, and seeing nothing in them but a desire to protect me from myself, I sighed and nodded. He wrapped a warm, muscular arm around my shoulders and we walked slowly to the door. I winced at every step, the pain of my injuries beginning to register properly.

We stepped into the elevator and Thor pressed the button for Bruce's floor in Stark Tower. As the metallic hum of the moving lift began, Thor told me again that it wasn't my fault that a family of four had died the day before. I had received the order to retreat, but I ignored Fury and bolted into the collapsing structure. There was a mother and her three children trapped on the third floor, but I only made it to the second before the building had caved in and killed them. I was knocked out, and had sustained a gash to my midsection, and it had taken Stark nine hours and the help of six suits and the God of Thunder to pull me out of the wreckage. I sighed and leaned against him, tired and upset, but too worn out to cry or throw more punches.

He pulled me close to him and kissed the top of my head, and I rested my cheek against his chest. I closed my eyes and hugged him gently around the waist. Before I realized what was happening, I had dozed off, and Thor had scooped me into his arms and was very carefully carrying me to my room, asking JARVIS to send Dr Banner to patch me up. As I slept, I could have sworn I heard Bruce's voice saying to Thor that it was a good thing he was brave enough to go find me, or I might never have stopped punching that bag. I smiled into my pillow as Thor's deep chuckle lulled me into a deeper sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking before the sun the next morning, I guessed I had slept for about three hours. In my sleep, my mind had conjured up images from the falling building. Images of the tumbling rubble, shattered glass, crying children wrapped in their mother's arms and the chunk of building that had knocked me out flashed before me, and all I could hear was the screaming of the family I was trying so desperately to save. I woke up sweating and struggling against my blankets, weighed down by something that pinned my arms to my mattress. I was shouting and crying in the dark of my room, afraid that I was still trapped in the rubble.

A soothing voice reached my ears over my own shouting, and slowly I began to register where I was.

"Kite! Calm down! You're safe, its okay. You're at home, you were dreaming. Shh…" A deep, rumbling voice filled my ears, and I ceased my struggling as I saw Thor stood by my bed, his warm hands wrapped around my wrists, pressing them into the bed so I wasn't able to hurt myself. Breathing heavily, I began to sob, turning my face away from his concerned stare. I hated that I was crying. Hated that he could see. Hated that I had such an awful reason to cry. Between the sobs I tried to muffle with my pillow, I begged him to leave.

"I will not leave while you are in pain." Came the calm reply, and in my upset, his caring angered me.

"Get out! I don't want… I just… You can't… See me cry…" He had released my wrists and I had turned to bury my face in the pillow, so he heard me only until I said 'You can't'. He laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, steadying me through my tears.

"I can't what? Kite?" He asked, and I mumbled my last three words a second time. He sighed. I felt the mattress give as he sat down behind me, and his hand rubbed soothing circles into my side.

"It is not a weakness, you know." He rumbled, his deep voice anchoring me to the present, driving away thoughts of my most recent tragic failure. I sniffed disbelievingly, and he grasped my hand, tugging me to sit upright and face him.

"I was always taught that to show your feelings was one of the greatest weaknesses you could give yourself." I mumbled as he wrapped a heavy arm around my shoulder. I leaned into his chest and smelled his unique scent of leather, mint and something distinctly Thor. He frowned.

"Whoever taught you that was wrong. Your feelings are your strengths. Without them, you would be nothing but one of those machines that Stark appears to have built his home out of." He chuckled, and I smiled despite myself.

"I saw them, Thor. I keep seeing them. Those kids, just screaming as their mother held them and cried. I saw the rubble, crushing me, pinning me down and cutting off the air. It's too much. I think about them every second I am awake and now they're in my head when I finally let myself sleep. I don't know how to get away from it." I confessed, and his arm around my shoulders pulled me closer to him.

"You do not get away. You understand that you could not have changed what happened, and then you let it go. You certainly do not hurt yourself any further by attacking a leather bag for four hours." He murmured, gently taking my newly bandaged hands in his, gently running his fingers over the bandages that padded my knuckles. I clenched my fists, hissing as my knuckles protested. Thor released me from his embrace and stood.

"You should eat. I have not seen you take a single bite since we pulled you from the rubble." He said, offering me his hand. I bit my lip and wrinkled my nose.

"I can't. I can't keep it down. This is the first… the first death that I caused. I feel too awful to stomach anything right now." I mumbled, shuffling a little further across the bed, out of his arm's reach. He frowned.

"Kite. Please, eat. That building collapsing was what killed those people, not you. It is not your fault. Just try to eat, for me?" He asked, but I just faced away from him and curled back into my bed, scrunching my body as small as it would allow, despite the stabbing pain in my middle. I heard him heave a sigh, then pause, as if he was going to speak again, but footsteps and the click of my door as he opened it and shut it behind him soon followed.

Feeling particularly guilty, I hugged my knees to my chest, biting down hard on my lower lip as the gash to my abdomen screamed in protest. I sniffed, trying to stop myself from crying any more as I closed my eyes and slipped back into an unhappy sleep.

A few hours later, around noon, I was woken by the delicious smell of chicken soup, and though I tried to pretend to be asleep, the hunger in me was brought back in full force, and I struggled reluctantly into a sitting position. Thor smiled from his position in the doorway, and carried a tray of soup, bread and water into the room, setting it on my thighs. I frowned, suddenly feeling ill at the thought of swallowing food, but a warm hand came to rest on my ankle, and I decided that attempting to eat couldn't hurt me any worse. I gingerly raised a spoonful of the liquid to my mouth, and swallowed its contents, gagging a second later as I tried to keep it down. Thor rubbed gentle circles into the bare skin of my ankle, and I stomached four more small mouthfuls of the soup before dropping the spoon back onto the tray.

Thor gave me a concerned, disappointed look, and I wiped the back of my hand across my lips, mumbling that I couldn't eat any more, that I felt sick. He stared at me for a few seconds more before gently removing the tray from my lap and setting it on my bedside table. He lightly gripped my shoulder and encouraged me to drink the water he pushed into my hand. I took a few gulps, half emptying the glass, and then passed the glass back to my friend. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall.

Thor, glad that I had some food in me, though not as much as he'd have liked, smiled and pressed a friendly kiss to my temple before gathering up the tray and tiptoeing noisily away in his Asgardian boots. As the door swung shut I leapt up and emptied my stomach into the en suite toilet, coughing and retching. Damn. I thought I could keep it down. I washed my face and dressed in a baggy tee and a pair of gym shorts.

A quick glance back at my bed let me know that I wouldn't need to sleep again any time soon, so I padded silently on my bare feet out of my door and to the lift, quietly asking JARVIS to take me to the gym, and not to tell anyone where I am for a couple hours, unless there's an emergency. JARVIS tried to discourage me, but when I ignored his protests, he told me that he would alert Stark in exactly one hour as to where I was. I sighed and thanked the AI as the lift door pinged open, and I jogged off to the line of punching bags that were now hung from proper chains from the ceiling.


	3. Chapter 3

Exactly forty seven minutes later, the lift doors pinged again, signalling the entrance of Tony Stark himself. He said nothing to me as I muttered about JARVIS's betrayal, and merely walked over to sit by the wall a few feet to my left, after ducking his head to an angle from which he could check that my shirt was free from blood and my stitches were holding. As I had with Thor, I circled the bag until my back was to the billionaire, and continued beating my bandaged hands against the leather in a steady thump-thump rhythm.

"If you want to put me eye level with your ass, I'm not gonna complain, Angel." I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. I rolled my eyes and circled again, putting the bag between us.

"My name is Kite." I muttered. I heard the gentle huff as Tony chuckled quietly at my dislike of his nickname for me. He stood and stepped a foot or so closer, watching me with an easy smile.

"Don't be like that, Angel." He whined playfully, and I let a tiny smile cross my lips for half a second, certain he couldn't see. He stepped left, aiming to see my face, but I mirrored him and stepped right, jabbing at the bag that hid me from view. I heard footsteps again, and made another dodge to my right, only to crash straight into the firm chest of Stark himself. I made a half-hearted swing at his jaw, unwilling to attack him like I had Thor, and he caught my waist, spinning me so my back was flush against his chest, wrapping his arms carefully around my middle.

"I've got you now Angel." He whispered in my ear. I could feel the laughter vibrating through his chest. His arms put pressure on my stitches, and I felt for a second time as they began to bleed a little.

"That's not my name, Stark." I growled, trying to squirm away. He released me and I backed up a couple steps, enough to see his face properly. His grin faded slowly as he took in my pale skin. He watched me with increasing concern as I realised I was shaking from my workout and the lack of food. One glance at my face told him I was okay to approach, and he gently guided me to sit with my back to the wall as he'd done minutes before.

Stark knelt in front of me, and I carefully lifted my shirt, murmuring about my stitches hurting. He ghosted a hand over the red spotted bandages and nodded unhappily.

"You know, you can't disappear down here every time something goes wrong. Thor heard you throw up earlier, and when he came back to check on you, you were gone. I had to threaten to deactivate JARVIS before he told me you were down here again. You're gonna hurt yourself, Angel." He said, grabbing my hands and pulling me upright. I gripped the back of his shirt as he stood next to me, wrapping a cautious arm around my waist and walking me to the lift door.

"Kite. My name is Kite." I reply, and his chuckle lifts my mouth into a smile as I reluctantly accept his help.

"C'mon Angel, we're going up to my floor. Thor's worried about you, but you need some time to chill without an overprotective God hanging over you. I'll have JARVIS tell him where you are. And get Banner to officially ban you from the gym for a while after he looks at your stitches." I opened my mouth to moan at the ban, but when Tony raised an eyebrow that said _you know I'm only helping_, I shut it again and concentrated on walking.

"I won't force soup on you, but I will try to help, okay Angel?" He asked, and I leaned against his shoulder and nodded, feeling a little relieved. He smiled and flexed his grip on my waist.

The elevator pinged open on Bruce's floor, where the scientist was waiting a little way away with a sympathetic look on his face. I ducked my head meekly and followed him to his lab, where he re-patched my midriff.

"As per Tony's request, you're officially banned from the gym, and any kind of vigorous activity for three weeks. Sorry kid, but it's gotta be done." He murmured as he wrapped the bandage. I sighed and nodded, bringing him in for a brief hug, feeling him smile against his shoulder. He rumpled my hair and nodded to the door, where Tony and Thor were waiting for me. I gave him a resigned half smile and hopped off the bench, walking to meet my over-protective friends.

"Hey guys." I smiled at them, and Tony smiled back, while Thor gave me a stern frown.

"I made that soup." He muttered, and I reached up on tip toes to hug him round his neck, grinning as I felt his arms wrap loosely, carefully around me.

"Sorry big guy, I tried to keep it down. Honest." I apologised, and Tony pulled me away from Thor, mocking jealousy.

"Maybe you could keep this down a little better?" He offered, bringing a large tub of Ben and Jerry's cookie dough ice cream out from behind his back. I slung my arms around his neck, pecking him on the cheek.

"You know me so well, Tony." I laughed, linking my arms into his and Thor's elbows and walking into the elevator. Tony pressed the button for his floor, and suggested that Thor and I join him and Clint in a tournament of Wii Sports.

"Clint cheats, he's way too good at archery to be allowed to play one-on-one. I need backup here." Tony complained, and I chuckled.

"Sorry Tony, I can't help you there. Doctor Bruce said no vigorous activity for three weeks. I'll watch, though." Tony raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"No vigorous activity? For three weeks? So… no working out?"

"Nope."

"No strenuous activity?"

"None."

"Nothing that'll get you hot and sweaty?"

"Tony."

"So definitely no bedroom activities?" A suggestive wink at me made Thor shift uncomfortably. The doors opened and Thor quickly exited.

"Huh, Thor seems a little too bothered by three weeks of no _vigorous activity_, doesn't he Angel? I wonder why…" Tony grinned and stepped out, leaving me open mouthed in the elevator, wondering if it was possible that the God of Thunder might just… like me as more than a fellow Avenger.


	4. Note

**Thanks to the reviewer that mentioned the lack of speech marks, they were in the original document but didn't show up when I posted? Should be fixed now :)**


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